


Sit Still

by PercySnail



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: F/F, Tumblr Prompt, this is Jocelyn centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-13
Updated: 2015-04-13
Packaged: 2018-03-22 15:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3733954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PercySnail/pseuds/PercySnail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt that the lovely vanityanddeceit left me - "can't you just sit still?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sit Still

 

She sits in Maggie's small office, rolling the metal pen through the fingers of her right hand.  Maggie is talking - elaborating on the new story she'll be following.  The one that she's dumped in Jocelyn's lap, without warning or care.  The one that she's announced, will take her away, for at least six months.  Away from this sleepy town, to the big city.

Maggie is excited, happy - her fingers brushing the hair out of her eyes as she describes the hotel they'll put her up at, the assistant they'll be providing her with.  It is a big chance for her; when she returns, she knows that her superior will likely be leaving, and with this story under her belt, she'll be a shoo-in for editor of _The Echo_. 

"Jocelyn - Jocelyn, aren't you happy for me?"  Maggie is sitting next to her, and she reaches over, hand resting on Jocelyn's forearm.  Jocelyn jumps slightly at the contact; Maggie's fingertips burning through the thin cloth of her blouse.  "Jocelyn?"  Maggie removes her hand, and meets her eyes, concern and confusion in her gaze.  

She nods back at her friend, a forced smile on her face.  "Of course, of course I am." 

Maggie's furrowed brow is an easy indication of what a superb journalist she is; the disbelief and bewilderment at Jocelyn's fake sentiment written all over her face.  

"It'll be fast - and well.  Well, there's nothing keeping me here right now?  There's no reason for me not to go..." Maggie's voice trails off, and Jocelyn can hear the faint question in the tail of the statement; the slight uptake in tone that indicates Maggie knows - that maybe - maybe Jocelyn's been less discrete than she'd thought.

They have been dancing around this - this  _something -_ for a year now; at first an easy friendship; given way to something more than just that.  They spent too much time together; talked too often - sat too close, let gazes linger too long - for just a friendship; and Jocelyn had admitted the feeling to herself rather quickly.  At first, she'd been determined to combat it; turn it off; knowing that she would never be able to offer enough to Maggie.  Her career, her status - it wouldn't allow it.  She'd tried so hard to avoid it, but she couldn't, didn't want to, and had allowed them to reach this point - this stand off.  

Jocelyn continues to roll the pen through her fingers, unable to stop.  It is a tic, one she'd had since school - when she is anxious, and scared, her fingers will not stop moving - seeking out something, anything, to stay in motion.   _Sit still, Jocelyn,_ she tells herself.   _Why can't you just still?  It's now, or never._

Jocelyn looks up, drawing a breath at the intensity in Maggie's eyes.  She wants so badly to drop the pen to the floor.  Drop it on the ground, run her hand up, through Maggie's hair.  Cup the back of her head in her hand, and draw her close.  Confess to her everything, and move forward, together.  

But she can't.

"No, no," she replies, eyes cast downward to avoid Maggie's gaze.  "This is an excellent chance for you." 

 

*****

Jocelyn reaches down, fingering the tassel on the aged leather handbag that sits next to her in the chair. The voice of the doctor is clear, and sympathetic, but she is unable to absorb most of it. She has detached herself, vacated her own mind, very practically distanced herself to avoid any sign of feeling that may cross her face.  

"...time for a care center, likely.  She's entering the end stages of dementia now.  She'll need full time assistance, and full time care - more than just one person can provide." 

Jocelyn blinks - blinks back the burning that threatens to spill from her eyes; feels the heaviness behind the bridge of her nose - the one she knows signals tears threatening to shed themselves.   _Quit being foolish and emotional,_ she chides herself internally.  She breathes in quickly through her nose, holding it discretely before exhaling.  Effectively cutting off the tide of histrionics.  She can do this.  She won't cry, not here.  She will wait until she is home tonight; until she has tucked her mother in to bed (probably for the last time, really,  _oh_ ) and then maybe, maybe then she will let herself shed a tear.  Not here.  Not now.

The only tell left; the only giveaway that the despair lingers is her fingers, anxiously batting the tassel back and forth.  She looks down, at the motions, seemingly disconnected from her own mind.   _Sit still, Jocelyn,_ she tells herself.   _Why can't you just sit still?_

Perturbed, she shoves the bag on the floor to talk practicalities with the GP.  She won't allow herself to show it.

_*****_

_"_ I'm afraid it's only going to get worse, Ms. Knight."  The ophthalmologist is grim, her expression sympathetic as she looks across the desk at her.  "It's - I'm sure you've heard it - it's something called macular degeneration."  

Jocelyn feels it then; the uptick in the beat of her heart.  She has known, really, all along.  Since the first black spot had appeared, and she'd spent the morning researching the cause - she'd known.  Known that this was a possibility, a likelihood.  That she would be here, soon, talking of injections and treatments with a doctor; as she tried to keep the worsening at bay.  Tried to stay independent as long as she could; before inevitably, she'd be dependent on others.

Dependent. 

That is what frightens her, truly.  She has...she has, in her own sad way, chosen this life of solitude and independence for herself.  Having to seek out assistance, and be helpless is what has kept her up since the beginning of this.  She'd almost been hopeful for something fast acting, and quick; something that would kill her quickly - instead of this slow and steady decline that will affect only her vision and self-reliance; and not her body. 

"Ms. Knight - are you okay, Ms. Knight?"  The doctor's voice is kind.  "It's only just, well your hand."  

Jocelyn startles; looking at the hand she's laid on the desk in front of her.  It is trembling, noticeably.  She looks at her other hand, the one that lays in her lap, and it is doing the same.  

 _Sit still, Jocelyn._ Angrily, she shoves the  hand in her lap, unable to will the shaking away.   _Why can't you just sit still?_

_*****_

Her hands twist, anxiously stroking the pleats in carefully ironed into the skirt. She can feel her heart beat fast; the silence of the courtroom dissipating as it fills.  

It is her second case "back" in the world.  The first had ended badly; horrifically for any barrister, let alone one who'd come out of retirement.  The Latimer's had depended on her, and she'd lost for them, disappointed the entire town.  

Yet, it had felt good to be back. Despite the outcome. Felt good to feel useful again.  Felt good to be here, heels on, skirt on, practicing the law.  So she had taken another case, a smaller one this time.  She'd been reluctant at first, but Maggie's insistence that she not quit, not give up had been the push she'd needed. 

Jocelyn takes a deep breath, trying desperately to still the motions of her hands.  Still them; stop them, before she wrinkles the robe, makes herself appear messy and unkempt.   _Sit still, Jocelyn,_ she tells herself.   _Why can't you just still?_

A flash of blonde catches her eyes, and she turns towards the door.  She holds back the small smile that threatens to cross her face as she sees her - her...her  _Maggie_ take a seat, tugging Olly down next to her.  There's no reason, not really, for the editor of the paper.  This is a minor case, she could have sent Olly alone to do so.  The practical part of Jocelyn will tell her that tonight, tease her about coming out to watch her work instead of doing  _real work_ in the office.  The impractical part of Jocelyn - the part whose heart soars, just slightly - is utterly grateful to see her there.

Maggie settles into her seat, and looks out into the courtroom.  She catches Jocelyn's eye, her gaze steady and unwavering as she smiles, just slightly at her.  She brushes a piece of hair out of her eyes, not looking away as she nods just slightly at her.  In her eyes, Jocelyn sees it all - the confidence and pride; the happiness and joy at seeing her work again.  Jocelyn holds the look, firmly looking back, letting just the trace of a smile cross her lips, before she breaks her eyes away.

Jocelyn looks down, takes a deep breath in as the judge takes her seat.  

Her hands have stilled, steady in her lap.  

She stands, and begins to speak.  

 

 


End file.
